


Me, Myself, and Champagne

by FatalSmiles



Series: Seven Seas of Rye Whiskey [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, Gender Dysphoria, Lingerie, Masturbation, Other, Recreational Drug Use, a lot of silly plot, auto voyeurism, discovering a new kink, filming day for "I Want to Break Free", roger is a little infatuated with himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-19 06:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20326942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalSmiles/pseuds/FatalSmiles
Summary: March 1984. It’s Roger’s time to shine. After the hit music video for his song ‘Radio Ga Ga’ dropped and paved the way for the band’s 10th album The Works, It’s time to finish the album’s promotion with its second music video. And Roger knows exactly how the band should ‘Break Free’ and loosen up. But Roger never anticipated just how much he’d enjoy dressing in drag.





	Me, Myself, and Champagne

**Author's Note:**

> *Of course I had to do an obligatory Rogerina fic. This was originally going to be two chapters long (and I may write the second but we all know I’m a huge flake). The fic works as a stand-alone just fine! I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> **There is a car race scene. I debated for a while as to whether or not I should even include it. But it was fun to write so I decided “they don’t call it fanfiction for nothing."
> 
> ***I tried to keep a lot of this historically accurate but I'm sure I fudge up here and there. If the issue is horrendously glaring please tell me. But otherwise please understand that this IS an AU. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. <3 
> 
> **Reference Photos**  
[The Boys on Set](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BOWZjMzAwZWMtYmJlYi00OTA3LWIzZjUtMGNhNWI0OTk5YTg2XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjgyOTI1ODY@._V1_.jpg)  
[The Boys in 1984](https://queenphotos.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/queen-1984.jpg)  
[Brian and His Little Ones](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/fb/78/89/fb7889655670b7a2f4226698eb5b3dea.jpg) (Though this story takes place where they’re much younger and the youngest hasn’t been born yet.)  
[Roger and Felix](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/dsHzljlpjgU/hqdefault.jpg)  
[John and his Little Ones at the Time](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c6/ac/3b/c6ac3b1ff042af8de223ccd7c3fb6e41.jpg)  
[David Mallet](https://alchetron.com/cdn/david-mallet-director-d1332dff-5da3-4108-ac5a-b4ceb4d85cd-resize-750.jpeg)  
[Carolyn Cowen's Website](https://carolyncowan.com/)(Sadly, I couldn't find pictures of her in her youth. But she seems to be a very interesting and strong person.)  
[Crystal Taylor (left)](https://queenpoland.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/roger-with-chris-crystal-taylor-drum-technician.jpg)  
[Peter Straker](https://gq-images.condecdn.net/image/gBekzzrB6pn/crop/1620/f/elton-john-gq-22oct18_getty_b.jpg)(in between Freddie and Elton.)
> 
> _Disclaimer: _Roger's feelings are derived from the experiences of a friend who cross-dresses for sexual and non-sexual purposes (some of my own experiences as a trans individual are mixed in). Please understand that this fic is not intended to be an example of a transgender experience. I did not want to sexualize feelings of dysphoria. This is more just Roger realizing a new facet of his personality and a kink therein.

* * *

It was just a bit of fun, really. Roger couldn’t help himself.

Queen had finally finished _ The Works _ and were finishing up the productions of the music videos for the singles. It had already been decided ages ago that John’s song “I Want to Break Free,” and Roger’s “Radio Ga Ga” would be the cash cows for their tenth album. 

The music video for Radio Ga Ga rolled off the conveyor belt in January to momentous public excitement. It had taken two years for the four of them to come together and finish the album. But it wasn’t the timespan that had people sweating, it was the fact that Freddie, Brian, and Roger had gone their separate ways to pursue solo work for much of that time. There had been rumors for ages that the band might break up. Bullshit, all of it, of course. They had just gotten tired of looking at each other was all. But the public didn’t care. By the time _ The Works _ rolled out in February fans were rabid. Especially after what a strange… ‘event’ _ Hot Space _ had been. 

Now it was time to finish the album’s promotion with their second music video: ‘I Want To Break Free.’ 

Roger had been riding high for Radio Ga Ga. With the idea for the lyrics birthed from his little boy, and the core theme of the song being about the changing of modern times with sci-fi visuals to boot, what wasn’t to be excited about? The song had originally been intended for _ Strange Frontier _ but he was glad John and Freddie had gotten ahold of it. It was a hit. No if's, and's, or but's about it. 

And after how serious Radio Ga Ga’s music video had been, Roger decided _ fuck it, _ why not get a little crazy?

“What about _ Coronation Street _?” Roger asked. 

The four of them plus John’s two youngest, Brian’s two little ones, and Roger’s little Felix were all having lunch at an American style diner in Fulham. It was a small establishment with checkerboard flooring and red plastic chairs. A bit cheesy but the kids loved it. There was little atmosphere to it on that crisp Tuesday afternoon. Hardly any families. It was easier on all of them that way. Strangers didn’t seem to understand that managing children while signing autographs and talking about fuck-all was a bit difficult. 

“What about it?” Brian replied. Their small army occupied a half-booth coated on all sides with chairs. Brian was sitting across from Roger.

“Well s’popular, isn’t it? I fell asleep on the couch last night watching reruns with Dominique cuz nothing else was on. S’bit campy, but downright funny. Dominic and I got to talking about how funny it would be to have something like that in a video.” Roger had been idly tapping a beat out with his finger on the counter. In his lap was Felix and a little too close for comfort was Michael, John’s boy. The two of them were pouring over a basket of chips and ketchup while everyone waited for their hamburgers. 

“I’m all for a bit more camp in our videos.” Said Freddie, snagging a chip too. He sat caddy corner to Roger and the boys. “But what would you have us do? Adding footage from _ Coronation Street _ like how we did with _ Metropolis _ is just plain lazy.”

“Sounds a bit… eh… ” John trailed off. He was on Roger’s other side, idly watching Laura try to braid her Barbie Doll’s hair. Maybe he was trying to learn something from her. Her own hair looked like it had been hastily pulled into pigtails without so much as a comb through. 

“I like Coronation Street.” piped up Jimmy, Brian’s boy. “Me and Mom watch it together sometimes.” He was working on his own basket of chips while Brian bounced his baby sister on one knee. 

“Thank you, Jimmy.” Roger pointed at him. “Nice to have someone on my side.” 

“Why don’t we do eh… something like a timelapse?” Freddie proposed. “Maybe depicting a happy young couple. But as time goes on we see the sort of lives they would have had if they hadn’t been together. Maybe they’re fighting. Maybe they want to sort of... make up for lost time and… ‘Break free’ from one another?”

“Now hold on,” John tore his eyes from Laura.”Spell it out for them why don’t you? Do I look like I want the press in my business?”

Freddie pursed his lips. Felix dropped a ketchupy chip on Roger’s jeans and he was happy he hadn’t decided to wear anything nice that day. 

“None of you are listening to what I’m saying.” He said as he grabbed a napkin from the table and began wiping up the mess. “I’m not saying we should put clips from the show in. I’m saying we should just cut out the middleman and _ be _ the characters.” 

“You mean like be in your own TV show? That’s so cool!”

“Thank you, Jimmy!” Roger leaned across the table and gave him a high five. Brian watched in amusement. 

“So what?” John asked. “We all dress up as old Ken Barlow and have a laugh?” Laura was now painstakingly picking out an outfit for her doll from a little heart-shaped purse she wore cross-body. She set a pair of little white stockings on the table, followed by a fistfull of skirts. John had been assigned Barbie-holding duty while she worked. 

“No, not exactly.” Roger couldn’t help the sheepish grin that spread across his face. He caught Freddie’s eye. It didn’t take long for the message to sink in. 

“Nooo,” Freddie’s gasp cut through the calm atmosphere of the diner. He pointed a finger forcefully at Roger. “I know what you’re up to, you cheeky bastard.”

John grunted. 

“Language, Fred.” Brian chided. 

“Sorry. It’s just. Well, Roger you tell them. It was your idea.” Freddie covered his mouth to hide his grin. Roger was smiling too. He waggled his head importantly.

“Gentleman,” He declared. “Why don’t we dress ourselves up as the lovely _ ladies _ from _ Coronation Street _?”

“Dressing as girls?” Michael said from next to him. He looked stricken. “Gross!”

“Ah, it’s just pretend, Michael.” Freddie bopped his fist gently on Michael's shoulder. “We do crazy stuff like this all the time for fun.” Michael turned to look over at his dad in bewilderment, but John was still watching Laura. 

Roger looked at all their faces. Brian had his lips pursed and his eyebrows knitted together.

“You want us… to dress in drag?” Brain said slowly. “Why on earth-”

“Why not?” Roger cut him off. “The Stones did it. It’s fair game. We all saw ‘Have You Seen Your Mother,’ with those World War Two gettups. The nurses.”

“Roger, that photo was literally taken in the 60’s!” 

“All the more reason to do it again now! People will think we’re being original.”

“Just because The Stones have done something doesn’t mean we have to jump on the bandwagon.”

“Brian darling, don’t be such a tit.” Freddie sighed. “I think it’s a grand idea.” Brian opened his mouth to say something, then clamped it shut again. Roger was sure that if the kids weren’t present there would have been a row. Brian was quiet for a time, clearly having an internal struggle. He’d stopped bouncing his leg and a grumpy little Louisa dismounted to sit next to her brother. She pointed commandingly at the chips. 

“We could talk to David about it… I suppose.” He said finally, watching Jimmy pull the chip basket from the tabletop. He grabbed it and put it back. “I don’t want those spilling on the floor. Just hand her a few at a time.” Then he looked at John. “What do you think, John?”

John didn’t even look up. “Sounds silly,” he said. Laura was having trouble finishing up her Barbie’s outfit. He wrapped his arms on either side of her and started doing it himself while she held the doll steady. Roger and Freddie exchanged a look. 

“John,” Said Freddie with a measured voice. “We’ve all got to agree on something. Can we do this or should we move on?”

“Oh I didn’t say I didn’t agree with it.” John lifted his hands away to reveal a stylish little woman in a pink poodle skirt, a pair of black mary-janes pulled over loose stockings, a white turtleneck sweater, and a trendy pair of pink cat-glasses. “There you are darling. She’s all ready for her presentation at Cambridge.” 

“Thanks daddy,” Laura gently sat the doll on the table.

John turned back to the rest of them.

“Like I said,” He scratched at the back of his neck and smiled. “It’s silly. But I don’t see any harm in it.” Roger and Freddie grinned. Roger leaned over to give him a good smack on the back. 

“So,” John went on. “Shall we break the news to David and the lot at the crew meeting tonight?”

“I ought to do it since it’s my idea.” Roger demanded. 

“Alright then, you do that.” Brian rolled his eyes. “Which lovely ladies should be we then?”

“You should be Hilda,” Jimmy said immediately. The table was quite for a moment. Then they all laughed. Jimmy's head swiveled about the table. He turned to Brian, bewildered. “She’s Mom’s favorite.”

“It’s alright there, Jimmy.” Brian smiled. “You’re quick on the upkeep. I like it.” 

“We could all use more Jims in our lives.” Freddie chuckled and took a sip of his Pepsi. “Christ I need a smoke, anyone fancy stepping out for a bit?” No smoking around the kids was an unspoken rule.

“I would.” John said. 

“Me too.” Roger nodded. “Shall we go in shifts so Brian isn’t left with the whole hoard?” 

As they smoked outside the food came. They all bickered back and forth about their characters over burgers, the kids usually getting a good word in edgewise. When all was said and done they left the diner with the outline for their plan in mind. 

They would go with Roger’s idea for depicting characters from Coronation street. They’d all dress in drag for it. Brian would be Hilda Ogden, the gossipy cleaning lady in curls. John would be Ena Sharples, the old bat out of hell. Freddie would play the overtly sexual lead role of Bet Lynch, of course. But he demanded his wig be black, insisting blonde would look disgusting on him. And, last but not least, Roger would play Suzie Goodwin, the fun loving naughty school girl. 

If Freddie made his choice because it was outrageous, Roger decided to take it a step further. Playing a young schoolgirl in full uniform was positively scandalous and Roger found that hilarious. He even fancied that he looked a bit like Cheryl Murray. 

Roger had to talk the others into not telling anyone about his idea until he said it first. Usually they collaborated on music videos, or else Freddie and Brian had the most say since John and Roger couldn’t much imagine their way out of a cardboard box. Roger was always able to make contributions, of course, but this was the first time he’d really be able to claim something as his own truly original idea. He was protective of it.

The atmosphere turned a bit sour with his selfish demand but he didn’t care. This was his. Once everyone had promised not to tell, Roger left for home with Felix in tow. 

It didn’t help that he showed up late for the set meeting either. 

“Well, well,” Called David Mallet, the production’s director. “Glad you could make it.” He was sitting at a table with other production developers, wads of paperwork between them. On either side of him were Brian and John, both of whom were glaring daggers at him. Freddie was on the opposite side of the table by the door. 

“Sorry about that,” Roger grinned from beneath his sunglasses. “I got stuck in traffic.”

“Did you?” David squinted at him. “You and Freddie both seem to have, actually. He was late as well. Maybe try leaving home a bit earlier next time? We need another video up and out and we’ve only got a month and a half to do it!” Freddie turned to look over his shoulder at Roger. He gave Roger a little wink and beckoned him over. There were no free chairs left so he stood himself in between Freddie and Phoebe.

“We’ve just spent about the last 30 minutes brainstorming ideas,” Brian said through his teeth. “We’re actually quite stuck. We’ve been waiting to see if you had any_ interesting _ ones.” Roger’s grin became wider. Even though Brian was pissed he had still kept his promise. 

“Well you won’t need to discuss it any longer.” Roger pressed his hands against the tabletop and leaned forward. “Because we’re dressing in drag.”

* * *

Her name was Carolyn, Carolyn Cowan, and Freddie adored her from the moment he saw her. Roger could tell. 

She strode into the dressing room in brown thigh-high boots and a denim miniskirt, her long dark hair trailing behind her. She shook each of their hands in turn as she introduced herself. She had a no-nonsense attitude with a wild gleam in her eye. A dark horse to be sure.

Before she even started making them up she pulled a set of keys from her purse and brandished a keychain on it shaped like a bullet. Roger watched in rapt fascination as she opened it, poured a small amount of white powder on the back of her hand, and snorted it without a care in the world in the middle of the room.

Chris “Crystal” Taylor, Roger’s drum tech and good friend, whistled softly under his breath. 

“She’s a keeper if I ever saw one,” He muttered. Roger had to cover his mouth to hide his grin. If Carolyn had heard Crystal she pretended not to and jumped to her work without a word. 

Freddie, bless him, approached her and said,

“I’ll have some too, shall I?” 

“You haven’t got your own?” She asked, frowning at him. He shook his head with a sheepish smile. This seemed to charm her. “Alright you puff. Would anyone else like some?” A small crowd of people immediately congregated around her, Crys and Roger included. Quite a few of them had their own supply of personal poison, of course. But it was always more fun to take a line off the hand of a pretty lady. 

After seeing to everyone, Carolyn had the boys pick a number between one and one-hundred. John picked the number closest to what she was thinking, so he was first. It was kind of fun that way. 

Throughout the morning she did little things that charmed them like that. She joked. She laughed. She bickered with them amidst the bustling crew members and haze of cigarette smoke. 

She talked with John about alcohol, his favorites and least favorites, and his ideal mixes. She laughed at all his little anecdotes. 

Freddie had been all over the place all morning and easily found little things to be grumpy about. But Carolyn didn’t give him an inch. When he complained about the shade of lipstick she used on him she countered with a comment about how most people didn’t recognize their own beauty. Roger watched as a bashful grin spread across Freddie’s face. She caught Roger’s eye in the mirror. 

“Look all you want, you can’t touch, darling.” She had caught Roger admiring the dimples of her ass through her tight skirt. Roger froze. Freddie barked a laugh. 

“How’d you even know I was looking?” Roger was sitting on a table in the corner drinking vodka from a martini glass. By then Crystal had wandered off to help with the stage set and Roger had been getting bored.

“The mirror always knows, darling.” Her reflection winked at him. “And just for that you’re going last.” She was fitting Freddie’s wig on. 

“This comes together rather nicely.” Freddie leaned in to look at himself closer. 

“Speak for yourself.” John called from across the room. He was dressed in all manners of velvet and felt. The wig and hat that had been put on him made him quite the convincing old woman. Not to mention the make-up.

“Go on, John.” Brian called. “Give us your best Ena.” John squinched up his face and shuffled over to him. If Roger had seen John out on the street he would have never known it was him. 

“The youth these days,” John pitched his voice and gave it a quaver. “No values!” Everyone started laughing. Even some of the crew halted their bustling to watch John stamp about the room in his little slippers. John was eerily good at imitating Ena’s accent.

“Your promiscuous ways won’t go unnoticed!” He made a grab for Brian’s pink slip and pulled at it. “Not in the eyes of the lord! Now come on, give us a kiss.” John puckered his lips and dove in, but Brian caught him with an open palm and pushed him back. It looked like it was difficult though, Brian was shaking with laughter. He had to balance himself against the wall. Roger was beating his fist on the tabletop, howling. Some of his vodka spilled over onto his skirt. 

Aside from waiting on his makeup, Roger was a schoolgirl from his blouse to his stockings. It had given him a thrill to put everything on. When one of the women in the costume department explained to him how the outfit was designed to accentuate curves so his body appeared more feminine he was fascinated. He’d refrained from wearing breast padding, unlike Freddie. But he did situate himself into some nice black lace lingerie. The bra was a bit itchy but didn’t look half bad on him. And after some shimmying he’s managed to fit his balls into the pair of matching panties. Seeing his prick barely contained by black lace had something in his gut stirring. 

Freddie stood up from his chair and turned on his heels. He wobbled dangerously. 

“Dear god these fucking shoes are going to kill me.” He cried. They were shinny, black, and four inches tall. Roger didn’t envy him in the slightest. He was lucky he got to wear sneakers. 

“You can do it, you old Queen.” He jeered playfully. “Give us a little catwalk, Melina.”

“I honestly don’t think I can!” Freddie was grinning ear to ear despite how dangerously he was wobbling. 

“C’mooon,” Roger whined. Others in the room started catcalling too. 

Freddie, not one to disappoint an audience, straightened himself up. He threw his head back and raised his arms in the air to a cacophony of cheers. Roger downed the rest of his drink and clapped along. 

Freddie licked his lips and framed his face in his hands. It was actually quite sexy. He strutted forward to catcalls, whistles, and laughter. He made one, two, three provocative steps before stumbling and falling to his knees. 

“Oh!” Several people cried out. Some others were laughing still. Carrie rushed forward, already at his side by the time Roger was on his feet.

“Allright Freddie?” She asked. Freddie looked up at her, shaking with laughter. Roger smiled and boosted himself back up on the table.

“I told you these fucking shoes were terrible.” He wailed dramatically. “Something must be done about this.” 

“I agree,” Roger said. “I don’t think those make much of a statement. They ought to be taller.”

“Come here, you,” Freddie rushed at him brandishing the heel of a shoe like a weapon. Roger managed to grab Fred’s arm before the shoe made contact with his head. They wrestled like schoolboys.

“Oi, Cut that shit out! Both of you!” Carrie called. “I don’t want to have to do his makeup again. It was hard enough the first time.”

They broke apart. But not before Roger could get a good hold on the hem of Freddie’s skirt and pull up. To Roger’s absolute delight he was wearing a thong. 

More laughter. Roger was beside himself. But as Freddie laughed along with them Roger noticed he pulled down on his skirt a little too hastily. 

“Right, well, I’m off to costumes to fuck up somebody’s day.” Freddie tossed his hair and winked, albeit a bit awkwardly. He waggled the pair of shoes in his hand started to leave. Roger felt a pang of guilt. He probably shouldn’t have exposed Freddie like that. 

“Melina, Darling,” He called after Freddie, pitching his voice. Freddie turned. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Roger lifted his skirt to reveal his own lacy panties. Several people hooted and whistled. It seemed only fair that he make them even. Freddie grinned and blew Roger a kiss. Roger extended his arm to catch it, then rubbed the hand sensually on his inner thigh and licked his lips. 

Freddie threw his head back and laughed. But once he was gone Roger quickly covered himself again. Not because he was embarrassed, but because he was starting to get a chub. He blinked, a bit dazed. 

He smiled as people passed, pretending like nothing was wrong. But inside he was burning. He’d exposed himself wearing women’s underwear, and it had felt completely natural. Freeing. And as people cheered around him the exhilaration had sent blood straight to his cock. 

What _ was _ this feeling?

As Carrie beckoned Brian over for his turn, Roger helped himself to more vodka. He started to furiously tap out rhythms with his finger on his knee. 

Brian’s makeup ended up taking a tremendously long amount of time. Poor Carrie had to somehow tame his mess of curls into curlers for Hilda’s iconic look. After she struggled for a bit Brian stood up and left for the bathroom. He came back with his head dripping wet. 

“It’s got to be wet,” he sighed. “You can’t work with it dry. Put a bit of conditioner in, and then you should be able to comb it through.” So she did, blow-drying as she went. It was painfully slow going. 

A knock came at the door. It was Crystal. 

“What?” Roger called from where he was lying on the tabletop. John was sitting and working on a crossword next to his head. 

“Time’s wasting.” Crys tapped his watch. “David wants you out there in 30 minutes.”

“Ha!” Carrie laughed. “I can do it in 15. Hop up Brian dear, you’re all done. Roger, let’s get a move-on shall we?”

As Brian walked over and sat down opposite John at the table, Roger rolled off. He eagerly came around and sat in the chair. 

“I expect you shaved this morning?”

“Yep. And the legs.”

“Not necessary but good on you. Let’s cover up those circles under your eyes, shall we?”

Carolyn was a wiz with the make-up brush for sure. A bit of powder, then a bit of blush. He flinched when she got near his eyes. 

“Steady darling. Beauty is pain.” She tutted. He tried his best to hold still for her. As she brushed mascara on she whistled. “What pretty eyelashes. Natural blondes always have those long eyelashes. Shame though ‘cuz the light color makes them harder to see.”

After a sheen layer of bubblegum lip gloss she pulled away to show him. His breath caught in his throat. It was amazing how much a little makeup could do for your face. He leaned in closer to inspect. She’d been right about his eyelashes. Now that they were black he could see how thick they were. He could scarcely recognize himself. 

“Time for the wig,” Carrie pulled a dummy head from a nearby shelf. Roger tore his eyes away from himself to look. 

“They had this already made up.” She went on. “Not my personal favorite. I wish they’d tried to match your natural hair color a bit better.”

“Yeah but it’s supposed to be that pale blonde, you know.” Roger shrugged and smiled. “Not real. Like it’s been lightened with peroxide.” 

She sucked in her lips. “Is that what kids are up to these days?” 

Roger laughed. 

If Roger had thought he’d looked different with makeup the wig was something else entirely. He wasn’t himself anymore in the mirror. Of course, he could make out his own features underneath the getup. He’d only been looking at himself in the mirror his entire life. But something about the costume made it easier for him to forget he was looking at a reflection. 

As he stood up and was able to look at himself in full, the effect was even stronger. His blouse tucked into his skirt at just the right place on his waist gave him a very feminine look. And the poof of the pleats made his ass seem bigger than what it actually was. But the golden curls framing his face were really the icing on the cake. 

That strange feeling was back again at full force. Roger wasn’t himself anymore. He was… something entirely new. Something satisfying but altogether unreal. The cognitive dissonance was palpable. 

“Fancy yourself Rog?” He heard Brian call. The words pierced Roger. 

_ That’s it isn’t it? You fancy this. _

“Well don’t keep us waiting. Let’s meet your new girlfriend.” Said John. Roger had a split second to compose himself. He twirled on his toes with a grin. 

“Recon I do fancy myself, lads.” He put his hands on his hips and leaned forward. If he had had cleavage he might have given it a shake. Several people hooted. The gratification had his cheeks burning under the makeup. 

“Oh, very cheeky.” John grinned. 

“Christ,” Crys shook his head. “Rog if I’d seen you at a strip club you’d have all my dough tucked into that skirt in a matter of minutes.”

Brian's mouth was wide in shock. “Dear god I don’t recognize you at all!” He looked like he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Is this the same twat from before?”

“In the flesh.” Roger gave a curtsey. “And I’ll be the same twat forever after.” Without thinking he blew a kiss and waved. Carrie snorted into a fit of giggles.

“Well, we better get going,” Said Crys, checking his watch. “Oh. Carolyn, you were right, fifteen minutes exactly.” 

“Can’t believe you doubted me!” She sounded affronted. But she couldn’t hide her satisfied smile. “I’m stepping out for some air. I’ll be back in a few to make sure you lot aren’t wrecking your costumes.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Brian stood up from his seat opposite. “We’ve got work to do. And I don’t fancy waiting any longer.” The three of them began to file out. As Roger went he eyed himself in each mirror he passed. It was so fascinating to see himself like this. Was it really him?

As he made his way out the door he and Carrie both looked into the last mirror at the same time. She locked eyes with him and raised an eyebrow, looking a little too amused. Affectionate almost. 

In that moment somehow he knew she knew, and she wasn’t judging him for it. And it was also right then that Roger decided he liked her just as much as Freddie did. 

“Where’s Fred?” Brian growled as they made their way to the set. “If this shoot takes any more time than it has to-” 

The sharp clack of shoes echoed down the hallway. Roger looked over his shoulder to see Freddie walking briskly along. 

“Doing better?” Roger called. He noticed that Freddie’s heels were much shorter now. Freddie beamed. 

“Liz, daaaahling,” he opened his arms wide and threw himself at Roger. They embraced, giggling like schoolgirls. At least Roger had the excuse of looking like one. 

“I couldn’t be better.” Freddie said. The two of them had always been a bit more physical with each other than the rest of the band. It was just the way they worked. 

“Queen! Rolling in five!” A technician called down the hallway. The four of them plus Crystal made their way to the stage. Fred and Roger bounced beside each other. 

As they entered the set they all approached David for a briefing of what was to happen. Crystal broke away from them and went to go talk to one of the cameramen. 

David looked up from his paperwork, took one look at the four of them and burst into raucous laughter. “Oh my god.” He said, wiping his eyes. “Oh my _ god! _ You all look hilarious. Freddie I can’t even look at you without crying.”

Freddie covered a cheeky grin with his hand. 

“And you, Roger, good lord.” He stared at Roger in awe. “Rog you look so good I could fuck you.”

Roger’s cock twitched. 

_ Oh. _

Nobody had ever said anything quite like _ that _ to him before. He’d had quite a few people in the past mistake him for a woman. But now that he was _ actually _ a woman it felt completely different. 

_ Wait… ‘actually’ a woman? _

Roger smiled and curtseyed despite the swirl of thoughts and emotions that were sweeping through his head. 

“Hell, I’d fuck me.” He said. 

“Never miss a beat, do you darling?” Freddie bopped him on the shoulder. 

“He wouldn’t be our drummer if he did,” Said Brian. 

After some extensive communication with David things were beginning to make a head. Brian’s scene was to be shot first. Then Freddie would be introduced, pushing a hoover along. As he made his way into the living room Brian would pass him on his way to the kitchen where Roger was.

“Freddie gets a nice big reveal upfront,” David explained to Roger. “But the idea for you is that you keep your back to the camera at first. We’ll have them thinking you’re a right proper school girl doing your chores until you turn around.”

“Sounds like fun,” Roger rubbed his hands together. 

John’s role in the whole thing was very minimal; just sit on the sofa and look grumpy. He broke away for a bit when he realized his family had arrived on set. Robby and Michael couldn’t stop laughing. But Laura took one look at him and immediately started balling. She couldn’t recognize him and refused to let him touch her. Veronica found it hilarious. 

After the debriefing it was onto the stage. Roger was handed a pair of red rubber gloves and told to make it look like he was washing dishes. It was all fake of course, but the domesticity of it really had his mind whirling with excitement. He didn’t feel like himself at all anymore. He was Suzie, or Liz, or whoever he was. 

He was so beside himself getting into his role he almost didn’t hear the technician call “Action!”

* * *

The whole thing was probably the most fun Roger had ever had on a set. His sides were hurting with the amount he’d been laughing. It was actually quite difficult to keep his composure with the cameras rolling. Everyone kept giving him compliments on his looks, either joking or serious. Queen came into their rolls quite easily. Even Brian admitted there was something pleasant about not being himself for a time. 

Everything came to a head eventually. Roger was told he was off the hook. The next day was reserved for Freddie’s romp with the Royal Ballet. 

By that evening the crew had cleared out of the dressing room and the fellas were given more privacy. Freddie had left in a hurry, keen to go out with Peter Straker and whatever other friends he had who had felt like getting a little wild. He invited Roger, Brian, and John to go out drinking as well. John agreed to go with a smile and a scratch of his chin. Brain shook his head ‘no’ rather sheepishly, saying the kids were at the grandparents for the night and Chrissie wanted to take advantage of the free time.

Roger also found himself saying no, which surprised even him considering his current circumstances. Dominique had taken little Felix to see his grandparents in France, leaving Roger very much alone. She’d made an attempt some weeks ago to schedule the trip with Roger included, but things never quite worked out. 

Roger wasn’t the type who liked silence. And he knew there’d be a lot of it in his big empty house. But today for once he felt like he might actually enjoy some quiet time alone. He’d discovered something new about himself that he needed to look into more in private. 

All day all he could think about was the feeling of lace over his nipples and the flow of fabric over his thighs. And his reflection… Roger didn’t fancy looking at himself in the mirror any more than an anxious teenage girl. But when he _ was _a teenage girl things were suddenly different. He was so fixated he tried to catch glimpses of himself in anything reflective he saw on set.

Tonight he would be alone. Tonight he was on a mission. 

Roger milled about in the dressing room, waiting for John and Brian to leave. So as not to seem too suspicious, he popped some Hendrix on the record player, picked up a pop music magazine, and sat himself at the mirrors to flip through it. He bobbed his head to the rhythm of ‘Hey Joe’ and occasionally allowed himself to glance up at the mirror. Every time he saw that cute little blonde number looking back at him he couldn’t help but smile. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest as time dragged on. _ When were they going to clear out? _

At one point he looked up and saw Brain eyeing him from the other side of the room. Brain raised an eyebrow. Roger bit his lip and looked down. 

“I take it you’re not in a hurry to be anywhere.” Brian called. He was shimmying his skinny little legs into a pair of red velvet slacks. Roger shuffled in his seat, trying to refrain from chewing the lip gloss off of his lower lip. He reached for his sunglasses sitting on the mirror and slid them on. He didn’t want anyone seeing how antsy he was. When the guys left he would only have a small window of time to make it out of the building without arousing suspicion. 

“Not particularly.” He gave a false smile, slid his tongue quickly over the tip of his index finger, and flipped to the next page of his magazine. _ I wish you were in a hurry though… _

“Something wrong there, Rog?” John called. “Usually you’re out of here quick as lightning.” He approached Roger. He’d finished dressing and had a light jacket thrown ungracefully over his shoulders. 

“It’s Dominic, isn’t it?” Brian called. Roger heard the tell-tale clack of clogs against the concrete floor. “She’s left this morning, hasn’t she?”

“Oh...” John shuffled awkwardly on his feet. 

“She has,” Roger flipped another page of his magazine. “I’m alright though. I promise. I just didn’t feel like going home right away. Atmosphere and all that.” Thank god Freddie wasn’t there. He was the only person who could tell when Roger was lying through his teeth. 

“But you don’t want to go out drinking with Fred and me?” John asked. Roger shook his head, trying to offer John a reassuring smile. John stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked a little on his heels. “You’re uh… you’re sure, then? I’ll understand if you don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m alright, John. Really.” Roger insisted. Brian and John glanced at each other for a moment, then shrugged. 

“Well_ I’m _ in a hurry to get home,” Brian sighed. He pulled his car keys from his pocket and made his way to the door. “Get yourself home safe, Rog.”

“No promises,” He grinned and waved. John shuffled a bit more and then decided he ought to leave as well. 

“You’ll give Fred a call if you decide to join us, alright?” John asked. He smiled and patted Roger on the shoulder, squeezing. Roger realized John must have thought he was pretty upset about Dominic leaving. He felt guilty about making John worry. 

“You’re always the first ones I call for a good time. Outside of, you know, girls.” Roger grinned and pushed his hand away playfully. “Really, John, I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy.”

John looked at the ground, still brandishing that nervous smile.

“Allright, I get it.” He said. “I’ll see you later, then.” He made his way for the door. 

“See you,” Roger called and waved. He watched intently as the door closed behind John with a click. He could hear the rapidfire of his heart in his ears. He stood and approached the lockers caddy corner to the mirrors. The hullabaloo in the building had died down considerably, he needed to leave before crew started checking the dressing rooms for clean up. But he also had to give Brian and John enough time to vacate and drive away. 

He had to keep this situation a secret for a number of reasons. The primary one being that if the press caught him in drag it would clue them in to what the next music video might be about and completely spoil the surprise. Being caught wearing drag bothered him a bit as well. More than he’d like to admit actually. This new facet of his personality was something he needed to explore in private before flaunting carelessly in public. Oh… and he guessed he also had to hide the fact he was about to steal the schoolgirl outfit. 

He looked at the clothes he’d worn into the shoot that morning: a pair of blue jeans, a thin satin tank top, and a green windbreaker. He could wear the windbreaker out easily enough, but he didn’t want to put the shirt on for fear of mussing up his hair. And he didn’t want to take the wig off for fear of not being able to put it back on properly, same with the makeup. 

After a bit of thinking, he gingerly slid his jeans up and over his panties without taking the skirt off. Then he put the windbreaker on, pulled the skirt up into it so it pooled around his waist inside the coat, and zipped everything up. He looked a bit lumpy around his middle but not suspiciously so. He folded the tank top a few times until he got a desired shape, and tied it over his head like a scarf to keep his hair in place. He wasn’t sure if it was the best way to go about smuggling himself out of the building, but it was all he could think of. 

Roger turned and observed his outfit in the mirror. He found he liked the pop of color on his lips bellow his sunglasses. The overall appearance of the jacket, scarf, and jeans he felt gave him a somewhat sassy American sort of look. He let his glasses fall down his nose so he could wink at himself.

He took a deep breath. He needed a cigarette. He snatched one from his jacket pocket and rolled it between his fingers, focusing on the feeling of paper against his skin. It helped stabilize him a bit as he brought it to his lips and lit it. The flush of nicotine was a godsend. It was enough to help still his beating heart. 

Then, with one final look at himself in the mirror, Roger turned on his heels and made for the door. He opened it as quietly as he could manage, poking his head out to inspect. There wasn’t anyone there. And he couldn’t hear any voices or footsteps either. A lot of people must still be breaking down the set. Gingerly, he stepped out of the dressing room and into the hallway. With another drag from his cigarette, he was on his way to the parking lot. 

* * *

At first the drive home had Roger a nervous wreck. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he pulled out of the parking lot. He drove all through london like this, hunched over in the seat and trying to hide his face while he made his way to the motorway. He was terrified someone would recognize him. At least the sun was starting to go down. It glowed bright orange in the distance, lighting up the world in warm hues. 

Eventually he made it to the roundabout that fed into the A3 motorway. Roger was still very much focused on the road when he thought he heard something. Was that… muffled shouting?

He spun his head round, trying to find the source of the sound. Had there been an accident? 

But, no… it was some kids in a beat up old Ford.There were about six of them jammed in there with the windows down and the radio blasting. The obnoxiousness of it reminded Roger of a clown car. The two closest to Roger’s window had been the ones hollering. The one in the passenger seat, a lean boy with curly hair cropped into a very unflattering mullet, was motioning for him to roll his window down. 

Roger felt a cold stone drop into his stomach. He’d been found out he was sure of it. The moment he rolled down the window they were going to shout slurs at him. Maybe even throw something at him. He put his head back down and sped up a little, hearing a loud collective groan from the Ford. 

He felt himself begin to panic. The police on this side of town got lazy after dark. The kids seemed to know this as well--or they just didn’t give a fuck--because they sped up and kept pace with him. Not only that but they were pushing the edge of their lane, getting extremely close to the side of Roger’s own car. 

Roger was breathing heavy; terrified. He started thinking to himself that he’d never do anything like this again if it meant this much fucking trouble. But god… that fleeting self-indulgence in the studio had been so nice. The kids had started shouting again. And they were so close he could actually make out the words. 

“What’s wrong, sweety? Don’t wanna race?”

“She’s got a nice enough car. But does our love really know how to handle it?”

“Was it a gift from daddy, sweetheart?”

“Too shy to have a go with the boys?”

They were… cat-calling him. Roger looked up again. The boys clapped and hooted when they realized they’d grabbed his attention. He scrutinized the ones he could see. The boy in the driver’s seat was thick-set with pimples and a sleeveless t-shirt. Then of course there was the cunty one with the mullet in the passenger’s seat. And finally there were the four boys wedged in the back. He could only make out the one closest to him in the dimming sunlight; the other primary heckler. This boy had a spattering of freckles and a shock of curly red hair that puffed out from the top of his head, not unlike John’s hair. They all looked to be about 16 or 17 with the exception of the boy in the driver’s seat, who looked older. But the farther away Roger got from his teenage years the harder it was to tell. 

Tentatively, he rolled down the window. The boys applauded louder. The driver let out a “whoop!”

“There she is!”

“Fancy a race darling?”

“You’re pretty aren’t you!”

“I don’t recognize your uniform colors. What school do you go to?”

Roger couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. He looked down at himself and saw that his jacket was open enough in the front to make out his collar and tie. They thought he was a schoolgirl. They really did. He couldn’t believe it. 

A bunch of different feelings came to him at once. The first one was relief. He hadn’t been found out. Then there was satisfaction. Immense satisfaction. They thought he was pretty. But then there was irritation and anxiousness. He hadn’t really wanted this attention. Did teenage girls get harassed like this often? Absolutely mad. 

“What’s the matter darling, cat got your tongue?”

“Maybe she’s dumb. Can’t talk.”

“Or just plain stupid.”

They laughed. Roger could feel his irritation creeping. If these little bastards thought they could take his Range Rover in that old rustbucket of a Ford they had another thing coming. Not to mention their loud shitty music was grating on him. 

Roger unzipped his jacket a little more, allowing himself to get into character. If they believed he was a girl then he was going to show them what a girl could do. He smiled over at them and waved, getting more hoots. 

“How about that race, sweetheart?”

He nodded, winking. 

“She really is dumb!” There was collective laughter from them.

“Allright, there’s a good spot a few kilos up.” The red haired boy shouted to him, pointing up the road. “Race finishes with whoever passes the sign for Putney first. I’ll count down as we get closer to the start. Then, we’re off!” The others nodded their ascent. Roger rolled his eyes. What happened to just gunning it?

Still, it was good they’d decided to keep it to the motorway. With the sun nearly swallowed by the earth in the distance next to no cars were out and about. Most people had gone home from work by now. Roger flicked his lights on and pressed play on his tape player._ The Who _ seemed incredibly appropriate. 

_ “Hey fellas have you heard the news? _

_ “The women of this town are bein’ misused...” _

Roger could feel his skin crawling with anticipation. The feeling was breathtaking and nostalgic. Reminded him of his years living in Cornwall, shredding to gigs with his high school friends in that old beat up Thames Trader van. 

_ “I’ve seen it all in my dreams at night…” _

He rolled all his windows down for the hell of it even though he knew it would create drag. He had a fleetingly sad feeling about not thinking to put his convertible top down before leaving Limehouse. What had he been so afraid of anyway?

“Coming up on the start in THREE!” Shouted Red. 

“If we win we get your phone number!” Jeered one of the boys he couldn’t see.

“_Girls leavin’ this town cuz we don’t treat ‘em right...” _

Roger tore a cigarette from his pocket, shoved it between his teeth, and lit it. He heard the revv of the Ford’s engine next to him. He took a deep drag. He could feel his pulse behind his eyes. He wished he’d had a bit of coke to heighten the feeling. He could feel himself inhaling smoke mercilessly. 

“You know what they say about girls who smoke!” One of them jeered. He flipped them off and they laughed. 

_ “Come on, Take a train, Fly by plane…” _

“TWO!” Shouted Red. Roger grunted. _ Oh, fuck it! _ He spat his ciggy out the window at them, shifted gears, and hammered his heel down on the gas.

_ “They’re leaving here, leaving here...” _

Roger could hear the boys hollering behind him and laughed. He howled at the setting sun. The stars were shining in the creeping night sky above. He could taste the crisp spring air on his tongue. Feel the blood boiling in his veins. 

_ “Oh, you better-better change your ways, _ _  
_ _ “cuz they’re leaving this town in a matter of days.” _

There was a loud clunking noise. Then a massive roar. Roger looked in his rearview to see the Ford hauling ass behind him. Roger guessed the driver had taken his muffler off just so the damn thing would sound bigger than it was. 

They caught up quickly. Mullet draped himself out of the window looking wild. He was flipping Roger off with both hands. 

“That all you got, baby?” Screeched the driver. Roger cursed. The fucker must have made some custom changes to his vehicle. If he knew enough sautering to replace the muffler then god knows what was under the hood. He tried to square up the car in the dimming light. How big of an engine could he fit in there?

The Ford was starting to nose ahead. Based on landmarks Roger could tell Putney was getting close. He was leaning so far forward into the wheel he could have choked on it. He felt his hands starting to shake from the strain. Was he going to lose this? He couldn’t breath. 

That’s when he saw the turn ahead. His heart leapt. He grinned and hooted. 

The Rover was too top-heavy to go full speed into most turns. Thank god this one wasn’t that sharp. He was pushing 130 kilometers per hour. He took his foot off the gas and the boys took the lead by a full car’s length. They whooped and hollered. 

“Looks like she’s just another pretty face!”

“I don’t fancy the ones that are all looks with no substance.”

Roger couldn’t help smirking as he slapped his steering wheel to the beat of the music. Did they think he was born yesterday?

_ “Oh, the love of a woman is a beautiful thing…” _

The boys entered the curve and he could see their deceleration. Only an idiot would take a turn like that at full speed. A 35 year old idiot dressed in drag to be more specific.

He entered the curve, choked up on his gear, and twisted the wheel into it. His tires screeched beneath him as they glided over the asphalt. The boys whipped their heads back. He could see the whites of their eyes as their mouths fell open. 

Their lips morphed the words: “Oh… fuck!” 

_ “Yeah, the way you treat ‘em is a crying shame.” _

Roger gritted his teeth. He could feel the Rover starting to tip. 

“Play nice, baby, we’re almost there.” He grunted. As the Rover came into the crook of the curve Roger roared and smashed as much of his own weight against the tipping point as he could manage. He shifted back into high gear, straightened his wheel, and slammed on the gas.

_ “I’ll tell you brotha’, yeah, it won’t be long…” _

All four wheels crashed into the pavement and spun, lurching him forward like a slingshot as he pulled out of the curve. The teenagers screeched behind him. Somewhere along the line the satin shirt was blown away, leaving the wig to billow in the wind. He tossed his curls and laughed. 

_ “Yeah, before these chicks, yeah, all have gone...” _

He could see the sign for Putney up ahead. That fucking Ford was roaring behind him. But he was two car lengths ahead already. Any gain they could make on him would be moot. 

_ “Yeah, they’re leaving here, leaving here...” _

He kareened passed the Putnam sign with pure fucking glee rocking from his very core. He opened his mouth and screeched. A wild, raw sound ripping from his throat. 

As he slowed and shifted his gears down the boys came up beside him again. Roger could only see the silhouette of the driver in the dark. But from what Roger could glean he was pissed. Mullet had his arms crossed and his lips pursed. Red had both elbows propped up in the window, his face cradled in his hands. He was the only one who looked impressed.

“Can we still get your phone number?” Called one of the boys from the back seat. He wedged his head out next to Red’s. His hair was cut shorter and straight. He looked a bit better kempt than the other boys. 

“We ain’t worth her time!” Mullet scowled. “She’s all high class on those wheels. Doesn’t need a man, am I right?”

Roger could only grin. 

“Absolutely right,” He called. His voice was even deeper than the teenagers’. He saw each and every one of their jaws drop. All he could do was laugh and blow them a kiss. “Thanks for the fun, fellas!” Before they could say anything Roger sped up again, leaving them behind in the dust. 

God, what a fucking _ thrill _ ! In so many ways than one. Roger was practically vibrating in his seat from all this leftover adrenaline. He hadn’t done anything so stupid as a drag race since Felix was born. And _ fuck, _he’d needed it. 

Not to mention the bonus: They’d thought he was a girl. An actual girl. Amazing. It felt like being on set all over again, only this time even more real. Not a single person had called him by name. Only ‘she this’ and ‘she that.’ It was weirdly satisfying. Like being the first to stick a knife into a fresh jar of peanut butter. 

He looked up at himself in the rearview. The woman looking back at him was frazzled. Her hair was tangled about her face, her pupils were blown wide, and her cheeks were flushed under her makeup. Gorgeous really. 

Roger bit his lip and stared at her. Who was this person? How could she make him feel like… like this? Roger shifted in his seat and felt the crotch of his jeans seize around his cock. He hissed. The adrenaline really had him reeling. More than that he could feel the lace of his panties rubbing against his balls. He shivered, glancing back up at the mirror. She looked a little needy. 

All this tension from the day was suddenly crashing on him.A whole day dressed in lingerie, feeling the fabrics of his costume slide over those sensitive areas of his skin, being gawked at by his peers. It had all had a really intense affect on him. And now he was riding high on this victory, feeling like he was ten years younger. 

He cupped his dick through his jeans and squeezed.

* * *

Roger burst through his front door, barely able to get the key into the lock. After he’d parked the Rover in its garage he’d nearly sprinted all the way to the house, his heart soaring with every step.

He wrestled his jeans off as he skittered down the hallway, crashing his way into the master bedroom. 

He swiveled where he stood.

_ Where was it? _

He strode across the room and flung open the doors to Dominic’s massive walk-in closet. 

“Aha! There you are.” Roger grinned. It was a large full-body mirror. Round, and fastened to a stand at the halfway point so it could pivot up or down. As Roger looked at it he could see a girl peering back at him. She looked just as excited as he felt. 

He carried the mirror back to the bedroom and set it so it faced the bed. He took a step back from it. She was rather cheeky. Her hair was still mussed and windswept, and there was a telltale bulge at the front of her skirt. 

He let himself fall back on the mattress and spread his legs. The skirt only just covered the underwear underneath. He could just make out where they pulled away from his skin, straining against his cock. The press of the lace was so tight it felt chastising. He licked his lips. The girl in the mirror did the same. 

“Naughty girl,” He grinned, letting his hand run along the waistband of the skirt. “What have you got under there? Can I see?” 

She smiled with a positively voracious look in her eye. Roger’s cock twitched, pulling the panties with it. He felt the tug of them between his ass cheeks and sighed. This was too fun. There was already saliva building up under his tongue. 

He sat back and propped himself up on his elbows. The tie was loosened, and the buttons of the blouse were slowly undone. The girl in the mirror smiled with her tongue between her teeth. She spread her legs wider. The hem of the skirt hiked up higher on her waist and slid against the cock underneath. Roger’s eyelids fluttered, nearly closing. He moaned and blinked, hellbent on never taking his eyes off the mirror. 

“A bit slutty are we?” Her grin was devilish. 

He had a sudden clarifying moment where he realized how absolutely bonkers it was for him to be getting off in front of a mirror while he talked dirty to himself. It was a strange feeling, as though the earth had shifted without his knowing and he was outside of his body looking in. Yet at the same time the whole scenario felt completely natural. Like he’d been doing this recreationally for years despite only just having these feelings this morning. It all… fit somehow.

With the rush of adrenaline still pumping in his ears, and the taste of lipgloss washing over his tongue, he landed back on earth. He chewed on his lip as he realized that the hem of his skirt had finally been pulled all the way up to his hips. His cock splayed upwards and out, tip leaking through the lace. In the mirror the girl looked at him with lidded eyes he could read like an open book:

_ Fuck me. _

He hissed between his teeth. Is that how he looked when he was with a partner? So utterly… fucked? Or was this expression new; something he’d cooked up only for this occasion? 

She stared back at him expectantly, mouth open in a silent cry. 

_ Touch me, please. _

Roger brought his hand up and slid it into the opening of the blouse. He traced the lace of the bra with an index finger, feeling the tickle of it against his skin through the padding. He wedged his thumb in between the cups, pulled up as far as he could manage, and let the elastic spring back against his chest with a _ smack! _The girl gasped. He slid his tongue over his teeth and let his fingers find the fabric again, this time going underneath to flick at a nipple. The sting of it made his toes curl, made him tremble. 

The girl stared back at him open mouthed, begging him with her eyes. 

_ Stop teasing. You know what I want. _

“Boy, do I…” He breathed. His hand slid roughly over the folds of that soft clothing. When his fingers hit skin he savored the smoothness of the shave he had given himself. His nails dug hungrily into his inner thigh. Of course, his legs weren’t the only thing he’d shaved…

He drew his fingers upward, tickling over his balls. But when he hit his cock it was all over. He ground the butt of his palm down against the length of his shaft through the panties. He wanted to feel the scratch of lace against every nook and cranny. Imprint those floral patterns into his skin. 

He broke eye contact with the mirror and tossed his head back. The sound that escaped his lips was needy, and high pitched enough that he could have mistaken it for a woman’s if it hadn’t come from his own mouth. He’d become someone else here on these sheets in front of this mirror. And fuck if he wasn’t loving it. 

He stroked himself through the underwear, forcing them to wrap around his dick. With every tug upward the lace tightened around his balls and pulled at his asshole. He could feel his bra chafing over his nipples. His breath rattled in his chest. He was flying. Speeding along some vacant highway, going so fast he’d surely break the sound barrier. 

Then he realized he’d forgotten to keep looking at himself in the mirror. He sat up on his elbows to see.

Her cheeks were flushed pink. Her cock leaked freely through her panties. He’d half expected her to look wild eyed and hungry, but what he got was so much better. With her eyebrows knitted together and her eyes bleary and unfocused, she looked thoroughly fucked. Nothing Roger had ever done had rendered him this fucking weak. He’d almost come instantly at the sight of himself. 

He melted, letting himself slide down the front of the bed and onto his knees. His shoulders fell back against the mattress and his legs spread wide. The blouse had become untucked and fell away from his chest, leaving him almost completely exposed. He was pleased at how feminine he still looked even with his cock gripped tightly in his fist. 

He started again, going as slow as he could manage. He smeared his precum shamelessly over the fabric, feeling the wetness of it envelope him.The reflection didn’t disappoint. Her mouth was open, tongue limp against her lower lip as she panted. A thin sheen of sweat was forming on her skin, making her shine in the yellow light of the bedside lamp. Her hips bucked erratically with every twitch of arousal Roger felt. 

God it was so good. The sounds he felt rising from his throat only furthered the fantasy; revealing the pleasure of a woman he’d never known he’d needed in his life.

Him, a woman. A charming little blonde with a cheeky disposition. His mind swam. His heart skipped. His grip on his cock tightened and he quickened his pace. He was speeding along, watching himself be completely taken over.

There was the sensation of chafing from bra and panties, the soft relief of the blouse and skirt, the taste of lipgloss and salty sweat lapped from his upper lip, the heat of the wig on his head and the tickle of curls at his cheeks, the feeling of sweat as it dripped down his face and made his makeup run, and that sickeningly sweet musk of sex as his precum dribbled freely, making everything wet and sticky. 

And there she was in all of it, tugging on her cock, fucking herself silly.

He could feel himself getting close. He could see it in her eyes too. Their eyes._ His _ eyes. A naughty little slut about to make a mess. 

“Oh _ fuck _.” Hot cum shot out in spurts through the lace. Roger gasped and lost all the strength in his legs. He curled in on himself, collapsing on his side as he spasmed. He jerked himself gingerly through the last waves of pleasure, mind empty of any thoughts. 

When at last he was finished, he rolled over onto his back, still breathing heavy. Somehow he knew if he tried to move he wouldn’t be able to. Every part of him felt shaky and satisfied. 

He lolled his head to one side and caught sight of himself in the mirror. There he was, wig nearly off, makeup smeared, blouse wrinkled, and panties and skirt soiled with cum. He let out a huge sigh, pressing his palms into his eyes. A laugh bubbled up from his chest.

“Fucking hell,” He shook his head. “Holy fucking hell.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Today's Drink:**   

> 
> **The Ga Ga**   
_Roger's Cosmopolitan for a Girl's Night Out_
> 
> 3 tbsp (45 ml) Vodka  
3 tsp (15ml) Triple Sec  
2 tsp (15ml) Cranberry Jam  
3 tsp (15 ml) Lime Juice  
¼ cup (60ml) chilled dry champagne or sparkling wine
> 
> Combine Vodka, Triple Sec, Jam, and Lime Juice in a shaker with ice to chill it. Once finished, pour into a chilled martini glass sans the ice. Top with champagne and enjoy.  
(If the taste is too bitter, you can add a simple syrup or agave nectar.)


End file.
